Toxic
by SmileysBasis2
Summary: Crystal Tokyo has finally come, only for some reason The Great Freeze has extended over the entire planet. Everyone's beginning to lead smooth, normal lives until a note is discovered with two words that harshly pulls them all back together: "First Victim."
1. Prologue

A/N: Hello all! I'd just like to do some house cleaning and explain what going on here as briefly as I can. I am originally SmileysBasis. Feel free to go ahead and check out my other stories at that penname, most of which I will be editing and continuing. I'll be writing them under this penname because I cannot access my other one (stupid ).

Thanks and enjoy!

**Toxic**

**Prologue: Of Odds and Ends**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Sailor Moon or Gundam Wing

_Earth. Such an ambiguous term when referring to the celebrated planet holding the only complex organisms for light years. It's more than just the planet, more than the oxygen, and nitrogen, the carbon, the layers of atmosphere and the thick and thin crusts. It contains complex infrastructures, intricate societies, has developed a detailed history of discovery, violence, resolve and growth. The planet holds one of the most complicated organisms to walk its solid grounds; an organism that has developed speech, ideas, expression; that organism is mankind. _

Mankind had aged. It had started out young, creating countries and leaning on faith. It developed difficult thought, sought power and killed over large sums, morals and petty disagreements. Mankind edged into the modern ages, humans developed cars, cell phones, plasma screens and destructive military weapons. It sleuthed on further to borders beyond it's own and extended the hand of technology to the unknown black chasm of space. Homelands formed, named Colonies, and more war was waged on the already weary planet. Military personnel mauled its land and disastrous machines called Mobile Suits were the optimum mode for attack. The large, bestial mechanisms were brought to their height with the discovery and utilization of Gundanium Alloy. This, in turn, brought about contraptions that were virtually unstoppable, maneuvered by five emotionally distraught and hard-willed men.

What Mankind had forgotten, however, was the supernatural, almost magical phenomenon that had been predestined before humans singularly ruled the planet. Some remembered, those old enough to be witness to the grandeur of the ones leisurely dubbed the Sailor Senshi. Some recalled the mention of a crystal city, a paradise of purity amidst the muck that had been slopped to mar the rest of the world. What most had forgotten was the natural explosion of intense marvel, a phenomenon that rocked the norm and, instead of containing itself to the island it had been predetermined to devour, it spread like a virus over the entire planet.

The Great Freeze.

For one whole year the Great Freeze enveloped Earth and all that it had become. It transformed the planet, the scarred orb Mankind had left behind, and cleansed its filaments in order to sift out all of the toxins implanted in its firm body. Purity seeped into its core and transformed the lives of the people of Earth. However, instead of creating a paradise hub, focusing all of its energy on one secure location, something urged the freeze on. An unknown, indistinct force acted upon it as the phenomenon surged over globe and covered every inch of land and water. The cleansing was spread amongst the entire planet and, instead of completely eradicating corruption, it merely gave the planet a new start.

The only result that had been expected was the rise of Crystal Tokyo and its Queen. Mankind was confused, their previous lives humming within their body, their skills still fresh in their bones. Memories, however, were hazy. Who were they again? What had they been doing? But an unclear, almost forced acceptance of where they were and what was happening buzzed in the back of their minds. It was as if they couldn't resist the now literally shining new planet. They put their pasts behind them, not quite sure what those pasts had been, and adapted to the purity they felt humming in their veins. That ever-present distinction between past and present was still evident in Mankind's mind and an uneasy move towards life started again, but not without consequence.

Some remembered the old Earth a little too well. Some wanted to revert back to their home, the normal Earth they knew, and rid themselves of the seemingly fake and cotton candy-esque falsity that they faced. New history was formed when, seventeen years after the Great Freeze, those who remembered revolted. They were led by the ever young and radically minded Duo Maxwell. He wrote books on the human mind, on what he called the memories of the Previous Earth, P. E. He criticized the world for following like drones and published more on ways to live happily while rejecting the newly determined outlook on life and Earth. He created meditative rituals meant to cleanse the mind of the Great Freeze's poison and eradicate the magical walls that constrained their vision to the future and blocked any notion of the past. This was not the real world, he believed. It was a dream they were all stuck in, a foolish dominance of embellished control cloaked in purity.

Followers of his ideals sprung up all across the planet and he moved to base himself in Japan, in Crystal Tokyo at what he called the Zero Location. Those who believed in his words followed him into the heart of the poison. Rumor spread across the nation that he was a savior, a Messiah meant to rectify the invasion purification that had taken away their humanly growth. Only he had a perfect memory, only he had been completely saved, and he was going to lead them from the darkness. They gathered in mass numbers at the Zero Location, forced underground by their radical beliefs especially in the heart of their nemesis. They protested once and then they protested again, their numbers growing and the dangerousness of the protests escalating. And then it turned into a full on revolt, violent and cruel. Crystal Earth was scratched with its first blemish.

Thousands were injured in a simple effort to express dissatisfaction against those who were attempting to live happily. Lines were muddied and none were found to be at fault but the insinuator of the entire motion: Duo Maxwell. The trial was long and arduous. Duo Maxwell was eventually charged with treason and conspiracy against the throne, a verdict which earned the highest degree of punishment. He was sent to the Crystal Palace, the safest place in all of the world, and sentenced to life imprisonment in its tallest tower until death claimed his soul. He'd earned one barred window which faced North towards the glittering city in spite of his contemptuous beliefs. He was forbidden to write for the rest of his life and spent the remainder of his days quiet and alone.

Our story begins _en media res,_ decades after The Uprising. The revolution was disbanded, factions uprooting and moving back from whence they came. A disquiet marred politics and the debate continued but with their savior, with their Messiah locked away in an impenetrable prison never to be seen again, hope faltered. Eventually the world hung in balance, disagreement about Crystal Earth's memory destruction and purification was contained within politics and life settled down.

Despite everyone else's inability to remember the world before Crystal Earth the Senshi maintain their full memories and powers, as they'd seen themselves have when they visited the future. After the threat of Galaxia had been terminated, the Cauldron had yet to manifest Chaos once again. At Pluto's calculations based on Chaos' previous revivals, the Senshi had at least a few centuries to live in moderate peace. So the protectors of Neo-Queen Serenity moved on to lead the normal lives they never thought they'd have. All except for one.

Minako Aino, alternately known as Sailor Venus, remained at the side of Neo-Queen Serenity. The leader of the Inner Senshi preserved the idea that her Queen should be surrounded with those who were _meant_ to protect her. She explained that they'd been given their powers for a purpose, their lives had been pre-ordained and they had a duty to fulfill. The opposing arguments were stronger in number, but not in will. When Chaos returned they would be called upon. They would know when they would need to be called back to the line of duty. Hard feelings manifested and friendships drifted and bonds dissipated.

A new protective service was put into place in Crystal Tokyo. There was the Royal Guard, those who protected the Crystal Palace both inside and out. Integrated to a position alongside Sailor Venus herself was the ambitious WuFei Chang. He was originally from China, but felt that his ability to protect with extreme precision would serve best by a Queen's side. The Sailor Senshi of Love, however, disapproved of a new security member so close to her Queen. The only people she believed should be even relatively near Neo-Queen Serenity were herself, Mamoru, and any of the other Senshi.

Below the Royal Guard was an organization called Black Ops. It was an undercover system that had concrete bases stationed in large populaces around the world. Here authorities dealt with high-ranking classified missions, ones in foreign relations and domestic. They took care of the dirty work that not even the Queen was aware of. In this department was the still emotionally drained and deprived protective agent Heero Yui.

And lastly, below Black Ops was the Crystal Services. While the hub of the Great Freeze, Crystal Tokyo, maintained a less corrupted population than other countries, that didn't stop the human urge to kill. It was Mankind's flaw, the one eerie thing that they could not escape as if destruction of life was code imbedded in the human mind. This department was small, and handled petty theft, civil disobedience and the infrequent murder. Stationed in this unfortunate department were Makoto Kino and Ami Mizuno. Ami relished in their lackluster job, doing the things that she loved in a large forensics lab while Makoto pouted continuously at being stuck in a dead end job. Ami knew that she just wanted to get moved up to Black Ops, where they could both exercise their actual abilities more freely but unfortunately one cannot just jump to the top. They both knew that they had more than enough reason to be promoted, based on their supernatural build, but they were not allowed to reveal to the rest of the world who they were. They remained close friends, due to congruent work environments in the same department, but things would never be how they were.

Haruka and Michiru had moved on to become performers. Finding two women unfortunately still did not gain as much recognition as they desired, they decided to add a third member on to their party. After several auditions the spritely, kind violinist Quatre Winner was added to their team. Their success became easy and their popularity grew. Classical music had become far more popular after the Great Freeze, now that a monarchy stood at head of the state. They played in various countries and sometimes even for the Queen, a strained reunion between old friends.

Rei and Trowa had drifted the most from their previous friends. During the days Rei cared for her grandfather at their still standing Shinto Temple. At nights she performed as a singer in a small, classy bar; it was a fun job where she could escape from daily duty and immerse herself in something she actually loved to do. She became very quiet, however; reserved. Despite all of her efforts to remain normal, her abnormal beauty caught many eyes and her slightly flirtatious voice and sensual presence on stage brought many visitors to her small shows.

Trowa had fallen off the deep end. His memory already blitzed from his previous life he awoke with no buzz of reminiscence of any of his skill. The only familiarity that burned in his veins was his uncanny ability to fight. He dabbled in underground fighting where he earned money for winning matches. He struggled his days as a waiter in a small, run down diner and wasn't opposed to sleeping on the street.

All of their lives had begun to run different paths, a winding road towards individuality. But one thing, one singular yet shell shocking happening, was going to rock Crystal Tokyo for all it was worth. It started with a single note, one small seemingly insignificant piece of paper. It was the words on the paper that held the meaning. One bloody fingerprint was embossed on the side as if it was a stamp and in the middle of the card, neatly written in capital letters was two cold words:

First Victim.


	2. The Error in our Ways

**JPandS:** Oh wow I'm glad you read this one too! Honestly Toxic needed/needs WAY more work than Ascension so I'm cleaning up everyone's lives and their roles. Needless to say expect lots of differences from the first version haha. Thanks for the review, always much, much appreciated :)

**aquafina rain:** Gah I'm so glad you're still here! I have to admit, blink is one of my favorite stories so I'm honored you're reviewing mine :) Don't read the old one! It's full of plot holes and shitty writing haha. Much will be the same but trust me, a lot will be different as well. I'm really glad you liked it and I'll try to get another chapter out soon! I know these beginning ones are kinda boring but I promise it'll pick up. Thank you so much for your kind words!

**Toxic**

**Chapter One: The Error in Our Ways**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Sailor Moon or Gundam Wing.

Sally Po sat perturbed at her desk. In her long, gloved fingers was a small card, cream-colored business like in size. In the top right corner there was a bloody fingerprint, a stamp of a potential murder since the neat, inky words below it read "First Victim".

She leaned back and put the card up to the light, seeing if there were any differences it its makeup or imprint. There was no watermark or any other indicator. When nothing else appeared Sally flopped back in her chair and glared at the tauntingly sadistic words. "First victim…as in there will be more or there already are?" she questioned herself quietly, chewing slightly on her lip.

"A poignant question, Director Po."

Sally's body tensed scarcely and her eyes glanced up to glare at her long time friend. "No matter how many times I tell you not to, Agent Noin, it seems as if you have an irrefutable desire to break the rules," she growled through gritted teeth before waving her hand and snapping, "shut the door."

Now out of the line of prying eyes and ears, Sally turned the card to face her friend. "First Victim," she said and tapped her finger near the bloody mark. "Most likely him."

"Or her," Noin contested with a smirk.

Sally's nostrils almost flared. "It was a generalization," she barked, slamming the card down on to the table. Noin glanced at her with a raised eyebrow, her hands tucked safely behind her back. Sally sighed.

"How the hell did someone get in here?" For the moment it was a rhetorical question. She looked to her ceiling and the one door that led in and out; the only entry points to her office. She rubbed her eyes. "Forensics will be up in a moment." She handed Noin the card. "Take this down to the lab and see if they can identify who that bloody print belongs to." Noin nodded and exited, leaving Sally to wallow in obvious frustration alone.

….

Trowa sat hunched over a small table, his long torso a full bend shrouded in a black shirt as he touched an icepack to his head. His boss, a fat, hairy, greasy man with an interestingly daunting stare for someone of his stature, shook his head as he thumped by. His seemingly wet hair stuck to his face, which, for some reason, always looked like it was sweating. He raised his large fingers to push the sticky strands away.

"You see," he began, peeking at the lanky man from between drying dishes, "I dwell in the back here because if people knew I was preparing their food they would throw up." There was a harsh gruffness to his voice and his appearance but his drastically drooped eyebrows and the piercing glint from his steel blue eyes couldn't even make Trowa open his own. He knew his boss was a big cupcake on the inside. "You, on the other hand, hide back here to nurse a mysterious oozing wound."

Trowa's form shifted slightly and he turned to stare blatantly at the grease stains on his boss's protruding belly. He lifted his eyes pointedly to match his boss's and raised an eyebrow. "I told you, I ran into a door," was his simple and peremptory response.

The fat man rolled his eyes and threw a small, white apron harshly Trowa's way. The brunette caught it, his reflexes quick despite one eye being masked in a bundle of ice. Setting down the pack he stood and tied it around his waist, placing the small menu book that had been sitting by his arm into a fraying, stained pocket. "If you loose fights with doors this often then I just might have to fire you. Who wants to see a beat up kid serving them food?" Trowa's boss placed his hands on his hips like a scolding mother. "I don't pay you to sit on your ass, go make me some money."

Pushing the stool back under the table with a hair rising screech, Trowa nabbed the icepack from the table and threw in nonchalantly into a dripping sink. "Who said I lost?" was his saucy remark before he pushed on the rusting metal doors and was greeted with the sight of a dank dining place. The only thing Trowa liked about this diner was the fact that the entire front of the restaurant was windows, it made the place seem bright despite it's obviously grotesque upkeep.

The man behind the bar nodded towards a couple and Trowa gave a curt nod back, walking slowly towards the arguing duo, one of them obviously discontent with where they'd chosen to eat.

"This place looks foul…" he heard the woman say but the man brushed her comments off with a wave.

"It only looks that way, I swear they've got the best grilled cheese sandwiches here…"

The girl only sighed and propped her head miserably on her hand. She continued to stare indecisively at the menu before coming to a grudging conclusion on what she was going to eat. Trowa reached their table after grabbing two cups of water and, as if the guy could sense his presence, took his order of a grilled cheese sandwich. The girl tapped her fingers on the metallic table, obviously uncomfortable, and spewed a quick order of the same. "And do you have the…" she looked up, her eyes making contact with Trowa's and consequently observing his eye. "Good lord!" she cried.

Staring down at her were Trowa's eyes, one a forest-like green, actually pretty if you covered the other one up. The other one was a mass of dried blood and sloppy stitches. He was sporting a huge yellowing bruise that caused the skin to swell and produced a sort of lazy eyed look as it partially closed his line of vision. The girl placed a hand to her mouth and looked disgustedly at her partner.

Trowa sighed. "No I'm sorry, we don't serve the Good Lord here. There's a church about two blocks north that I'm sure can give you a big helping though."

The girl gasped at his response, his voice barely earnest and dryly sarcastic. Her hand remained on her mouth and she looked as if she was going to throw up. Pushing her chair back with a ferocity her companion obviously didn't know she had, she stood quickly and dashed from the run-down diner. The man stood and yelled, "Wait, babe!" before running out after her.

Trowa stared after them for a while, watching as she walked unyieldingly away from his workplace. He'd figured something like that would happen and didn't quite care much for the girl's stiff response. It wasn't his business to be bothered, however, and he peered over to the guy at the bar, who was smirking.

_Glad I could bring a smile to your face,_ he thought sarcastically as he turned and walked back into the kitchen, searching for his icepack. He found it a few moments later in a bowl of half eaten chili and a sticky Alfredo sauce. Picking it up he winced slightly and glanced down at his bruised knuckles. The red scabs, dull bruising and the humungous mass that was now his left eye were not the only remnants of his long night.

He'd been sloppy in his brawl. Something had been bothering him in the back of his mind but he couldn't put his calloused finger on it. Whatever it was, however, was messing up his concentration and thus his nightly performance. Just thinking about the previous night brought more pain to his right side, where he'd suffered a pretty hard kick. He lifted his shirt and touched the bruise gingerly with his long fingers. The skin was warm and pulsing with the blood that attempted to heal him.

Trowa rarely got excited; it was partially why he was so good at what he did. Most of his opponents were praised for being tense but Trowa was loosey-goosey, a lanky, hunched over fighter who relied more on his other senses than his eyes. He was flexible; it was a strange talent that had earned him a lot of flack, but he liked to think of it as a tactical maneuver. His other senses had been busy last night though and he hadn't been able to focus his center before his name was drawn.

Trowa shook his head, trying to escape his embarrassing display. He'd come out on top but only by a small margin. His credibility had gone down, that was for sure, and unfortunately integrity was like money in his world. Hopefully they'd let him back in the ring…

Trowa felt his pocket vibrate and pulled out a cheap, chipping phone from its depths. It was a text from the Gamemaker's secretary. The Gamemaker…Trowa's hand tightened unconsciously around his phone. He was the unseen master of Crystal Tokyo's underground fighting ring. He'd never been viewed by those who participated in the conglomerate he founded. It was common knowledge, however, that once you entered the warm embrace of his ring you had to pay to get out. There was a price to freedom—you didn't waltz around with illegal knowledge and expect there to be no consequences. The sport was a business and he was the boss. His lackeys did his dirty work and he reveled in its riches.

_Bye-week for you._

Snapping his phone shut Trowa's mouth pursed grimly in frustration. Apparently his performance last night had been worse than he thought. A bye-week meant that there would be no fights for him for almost two weeks. It was punishment. They knew that most of their fighters were in the ring because it was their main source of income. Giving a bye-week would prevent him from making any solid amount of money for too long. Trowa growled lightly. Whatever, he'd find some weed and relax to dull the pain that encompassed his body. He knew a man who owed him a favor…he wouldn't have to pay.

Reaching into the sink Trowa pulled the icepack from the bowl, rinsed it a bit, and then pressed the greasy coolness to his eye once again.

….

Minako bowed swiftly and gracefully down onto one knee upon entering Neo-Queen Serenity's office. She could feel Wufei's standing bow behind her and mentally chastised him for his impudence; when both king and queen were present you bowed to your knees. Two rulers, two levels lower.

Serenity obviously didn't mind as she looked up slightly from the papers she and her husband were inspecting and nodded. "Venus, Wufei," she acknowledged, Endymion giving the same steady, affirming nod.

The two remained in their bowed position until the queen asked gently why she deserved their audience. Minako stood, giving Wufei a small look over her shoulder as she did, one that spoke volumes on her end and one that he preferred to delicately ignore.

Minako cleared her throat, placing her hands behind her back. She opened her mouth to speak but the words paused, furious in her throat when a deeper voice reverberated above her.

"There's been a possible Black Ops breach."

Minako's gloved fists clenched tightly behind her back and her lips pressed firmly into a thin line. For not speaking much, Wufei sure knew the inappropriate times to open his mouth. She wanted to turn around and smack the hell out of him for his blunt statement but to do so would be embarrassing for both parties and definitely not part of the code of conduct. Before the queen, king, or Wufei could even ponder the previous words spoken, Minako let her voice be heard.

"The director, Sally Po, would like a direct audience with you. She seemed shaken over the phone and gave me a story, most likely fabricated, about an office intrusion and a request to borrow agents from the Crystal Services."

The floor creaked as Wufei shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "It wasn't necessarily that the story was fabricated," he disagreed and Minako bit the inside of her cheek harshly. "I believe that she was simply not telling the whole story, she's holding back information she doesn't want swimming around and would like us to respect the fact that she'd rather only divulge that information to you."

If it had been some sort of movie or comedy Minako was sure that her character would have chosen that moment to furiously stomp on his foot while giving Neo-Queen Serenity and King Endymion a peachy, little smile. Oh, how he made her blood boil.

Neo-Queen Serenity looked at them with a blue-eyed innocent gaze and nodded her head, her husband placing a hand to her shoulder. "A Black Ops infiltration is a matter of national security. Have her sent up immediately please."

The two nodded, giving another small bow, and turned to depart through the large oak doors. Minako, however, paused when she heard her queen call out her name.

"Venus, could you stay for a moment?"

Hand poised precariously on the edge of the door, ready to shut it, Minako looked over her shoulder to Wufei's back, walking steadily away, with a sneer before turning and walking back into the office. "Of course," she said, shutting the large door with as much grace and silence as she could muster. "What may I do for you?"

Neo-Queen Serenity looked at her with a watery stare. Her eyes moved mover Minako's body tiredly, almost in sadness at the Senshi uniform she still wore. She and Setsuna were the only two to enter that mystical garb since the Great Freeze. In some ways it made Neo-Queen Serenity feel guilty. She felt partially as if her place in the protection of the planet was becoming less of an able bodied warrior and more of a political liaison. Her mind was on the edge of a serious mental flashback but she pulled herself back so as not start reminiscing.

Her eyes focused on Minako's waiting orbs and she frowned, the patter in her heart almost angry. It's like Minako only saw her as a queen now, a head of state, a higher power political machine where strict protocol was to be followed to the T and ease abandoned.

"Minako Aino, what's my name?"

Needless to say Minako was startled. Not only at the question but that was first time she'd heard her name, her full, real name, spoken aloud in who knew how long. It felt strange, foreign, uncomforting, as if she'd been on an undercover mission and her enemy had found out her true identity. She answered nonetheless.

"N-Neo-Queen Serenity."

The look her queen gave her made Minako's heart sink. She looked disappointed, her eyebrows slanted downward and her eyes speaking volumes. In addition she seemed partially sad, a glassy gaze overtaking her bright blue orbs. They stared at each other for a moment, a confusing battle with an unknown motive.

"Minako, what's my name?"

Minako's confusion was now evident on her face. "I don't…" she started, perplexed, before continuing, "Neo-Queen S—"

"Mina-chan, what the hell is my name?!"

At her outburst Minako jumped. Her heart gave a tiny jolt and the taste of metal rushed into her mouth which caused her to swallow uncomfortably, the strain visibly evident in her throat. Her hands were sweaty and they dropped from their stiff position behind her back to hang almost lifelessly by her sides. Her queen's face was flushed, her eyes no longer holding that disappointing river, but now they held a furious storm of sapphire and anger. Her body was leaning dangerously over her desk, small hands splayed over paperwork and pigtails spewed amongst the wood like strands of golden embossment. Minako felt unbearably compelled to answer.

"Usagi Tsukino."

Serenity sat harshly back into her chair.

"Don't forget it." Her voice was laced with the most fury Minako had ever heard even near her pure body. It almost shook and her lips were pressed tight into a small frown and her nostrils flared in livid vehemence.

Serenity folded her hands into her lap. How could she possibly be just Neo-Queen Serenity? Did their past mean nothing? She was no head of state; she was no regal proprietor of Minako's obedience, of her life. But if the Senshi saw her solely as a monarch then she would assume the position of a monarch. "You may leave," was her cold dismissal.

Minako thought about bowing for a moment before completely disbanding the idea and slipping quickly from the room. She stumbled down the hallway; her posture approving an air of lucidness but her mind was in the state of a hallucinogenic drug. Minako had never experimented with drugs, thus the experiences were partially lost on her, but if she had to guess what the effects of psilocybin were, Minako assumed they would be something along these lines.

The hallways shuddered and bent around her. The postured carvings mounted along its tops morphed from the serene, putto-like, innocent faces with round cheeks and eyes filled with dream to vile children with a knowing, secret glint in their circular eyes. Their smiles teemed with malice. When her breathing came ragged, Minako pressed a hand to her heart, shocked to feel it's crazed and erratic beating. Only with the realization of her blood pumping with the speed of a Ferrari down an open speedway did Minako fold herself into a wall, clutching furiously at her chest and hunching over. Her hair veiled her face from sight and Minako, for once, was appreciative of its ludicrous length. If anyone were to see the embarrassment, the pain, and the overall horror that twisted at her face in that moment then that observer would be peering into a long forgotten page in the emotional diary of Minako Aino.

In part she felt sad, sad that her queen… that Usagi had tried to reach out to her, tried to hint at some semblance of their former relationship and that she hadn't understood she was trying to reconnect. The other part of her was infuriated. At first the fury went unnoticed, like the first bite of a jalapeno pepper. But the spicy anger hit full blast when she realized just what Usagi was insinuating.

Usagi thought she was dissenting, drifting away, thinking more of the job rather than the attachment. Minako clenched her fists, nails digging through her gloves enough to penetrate her palms. Was it not she who stood up for their given position? Was it not Venus who stayed by the side of her queen? Was it not Minako Aino who begged for the others to stay? Was it not dear old Mina-chan who stayed by Usagi's side when she had nightmares of their separation?!

She heard footsteps padding softly on the shorthaired carpet down the hallway and her body went rigid. "Venus?" A voice called behind her. The blonde's rapidly beating heart almost stopped, as if the driver of the Ferrari suddenly pulled up the emergency brake. The sudden change in emotion brought a churning to her stomach and bile rose uncomfortably in her chest, resting sourly in her throat. It was Wufei.

The Senshi of Venus straightened up and swallowed, holding down a grimace at the grotesque consequences of the action. "Wufei," she responded, assuming her regal air of confidence. Or so she thought.

Wufei walked upon her and noticed something was not quite right. She'd always been cocky and standoffish towards him, and needless to say grumpy and rude. However, the awkward pose she'd seized acquired a couture model stance and her eyes held a glossy, sick tint. She was leaning heavily against the wall as a crutch and after all…

"You're crying…" He reached up to swipe a tear from her face, managing to connect a rough thumb to her now clammy cheek before Minako jerked her head away from his touch as if stung. Wufei pulled the thumb close to his face and inspected the salty substance that resided there as if he were inspecting ancient miniature text.

At first Minako looked confused, as if the word crying eluded her, as if the meaning of the word tears did not exist in her vocabulary. When she felt her cheek softly and realized that there was, indeed, the residue of anguish resting on her face, she furiously wiped them aside like she did Wufei, stumbling curiously down the hallway.

"I'm just not feeling well," was her lofty response, barely reaching Wufei's inquiring ears. But he knew it was more than that, more than a sickness, something even more than the obvious long lost relationship between her and the queen.

…

After Minako had left, Endymion watched as his wife placed her head in her hands and bawled like the teenager he knew was still inside her. The only sniffling words he could cipher from her jumbled, nonsensical, watery lips were "I miss them…" and "I'm so lonely…"

The only comfort he could think of was to get onto his knees and pull her sitting body into a tight hug. She responded as he assumed she would and wound her arms firmly around his head, face tucked harshly into his warm neck. Endymion knew his words would do no good. After all, there wasn't much to say; he was pretty damn lonely himself.


	3. Evidence of Change

**JPandS:** I knoooow, I think Minako/Wufei in this story is like my favorite pairing of all time. It's so much fun to write and I can't wait to expand on the story and on their relationship later on. I have a feeling it'll start to center around them in some manner. Yeah, I definitely like writing them more grown up—there's a whole sleuth of stories out there that are focused around their younger exploits haha. And I like Mamoru and I love his and Usagi's relationship. They'll definitely be staying together haha. I've revised Trowa's plot line a lot and I actually like it WAY more and it ties into the story way better. Putting all of the girls back together is still going to be rough, no matter how I edit but hopefully it's still going well. Thank you so much for your review again, my one faithful reviewer! You really have no idea how much I appreciate it.

**Yami Nocturna**: Oh no! The old one has so many holes haha. But that's okay, this version will be similar but not exactly the same! I'm so glad you find it a rare gem, that's so kind. I am rewriting bits and tweaking the story line. I'll also be finishing it! I promise, it'll happen haha.

**aquafina rain: **Oh yay I'm glad you don't find them boring. I'm so glad Minako and Wufei seem to be so popular! It's such a rare/strange coupling that I worked really hard to make it interesting, appealing, and believable. Wufei is an enigma for sure but his feelings will be revealed soon. I'm happy you liked the scene between Minako and Usagi. I'm kind of striving to make the connections strained. Hooray drama! And everyone will be making many more appearances. I'm so glad you're enjoying and thank you so, so much for your review.

* * *

**Toxic**

**Chapter three: Evidence of Change**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Sailor Moon or Gundam Wing.

* * *

"_Rusted brandy in a diamond glass…"_

Rei shivered, though goose bumps did not rise to her flesh; the thick, warm, air of the nightclub made any chill impossible. She shivered from the mere poetic genius of the lyrics, from the perfectly painted picture those words created in her head. Her hair was let loose tonight and it clung uncomfortably to her back, slick with a light sheen of sweat. She'd been at it all night; warm weekends such as this made their nightclub a jazzy hot spot.

"_Everything is made from dreams…"_

Though she loved the song, this statement was simultaneously far from and unbearably close to the truth. Ever since the Great Freeze it was as if her high school years, the years of impervious youth daunted by supernatural foes were a dream. Her previous friends felt like dreams, her Senshi days felt like dreams, the pain, the dying, the satisfaction of saving the entire world felt like the brain's manifestation of entertainment during a long night's sleep. But when she also thought of dreams Rei thought of aspirations, of happiness, and of reaching one's goals. _Those _little gems had so blithely escaped her.

"_Time is made from honey, slow and sweet…"_

It would have been nice to think this, Rei thought, but the unfortunate fact of the matter was time was a bitch. Time had taken her mother and corrupted her father, weathered her grandfather and destroyed her friendships. Time, when tampered with, had defaced Crystal Tokyo's image. And now the happy city that they'd seen in the future was one grown in fiendish political upbringing and perceived as the adversary. Time was anything but sweet.

"_Only the fools know what it means…"_

She took a step from the stage and wended through the tables. She truly couldn't rag on her club that much. It was sophisticated, she was happy enough for that, but it also brought in an attractive and wealthy clientele. These were bankers and accountants, lawyers and doctors; businessmen. Their club accounted for it: the seating was plush, comfortable velvet and the tables were cherry wood. Soft, dark tablecloths mounted their surfaces and were strewn with candles of various heights and widths. They ate and drank merrily while she and her colleagues entertained them.

Her warm hand brushed a man's shoulder and his eyes slowly traced the curvature of her hips as she passed by. When the weight of her body pressed against his he wound a hand around her hip.

"_Temptation…I can't resist…"_

Rei sauntered her way sensuously back towards the stage, her back remaining the only face her audience gazed upon until she slowly turned around. Her eyes glided along the vast audience that stared at her with mystery, wonderment, and lust. Usually these things did not unnerve her, she'd wised up to the wealthy's perversion long ago, but for some reason tonight a tiny tingle crept up her back. When her sharp violet eyes hit the back area by the door she immediately knew why.

* * *

The club was empty now. The band jammed softly on the stage drinking glasses of scotch and rum, the percussion and laughter easing Rei's building nerves. The acute light from the dimmed bulbs above and the disarming white from the moon through the windows were the only things she used to spot the trash that dotted the floor and the tables.

The club was her perpetual scent: her hair smelled like smoke, her neck like a cheap perfume, her hands like alcohol, and her body like sweat. It was a wonder anyone could find her attractive. She set the empty cups at the bar and sighed. How long was she going to do this? How long would she sell her looks and voice for appreciation and money? She would give up singing if it got her out of this slightly demeaning place but it paid her well and at least she was good at it.

'Is that what I've come to?' she grimaced to herself, 'have I given in to money?' Her wallowing ended quickly, however, and she snorted. 'It takes money to get out of this damned city.'

Rei sighed and turned from the bar, right into someone's chest. She backed away and sputtered for a moment. "I'm sorry," she said softly, looking up. Her eyes connected with dark blue orbs and her heart fluttered. It was a face she hadn't seen in awhile, one that brought back a flood of memories, some good and some bad, that made her throat tighten. Suddenly Rei yearned for her teenage years. She smelled just as Rei remembered.

"Haruka," she exclaimed breathily, a small tinge coming to her cheeks as said girl smirked.

"Rei," was her simple response as she gave her a look over. When her eyebrow rose Rei frowned and haughtily placed her hands on her hips.

"I know you don't like it, and neither do I, but the inimical glare was frankly unnecessary," she retorted to the gaze as Haruka gave a throaty laugh. Her amused response evoked more anger on Rei's part as she turned away and continued to collect filth from the floor.

"Rei," Haruka said, her tone softer this time as she placed a hand on the younger girl's warm shoulder. "I didn't come here to chastise your chosen line of business—"

Rei spun around, flinging Haruka's hand from her shoulder. When the blonde looked addled Rei tried as hard as she could to make her disposition completely clear. She wet her lips and glared at Haruka from the corner of her eye. "My chosen line of business?" she said quietly, simmering in a pool of rage. Her hand fisted at her side and the other crushed a can with a metallic snap.

"I'm not leaning on any shoulders here, Haruka. I don't want any help. After…" she looked away and swallowed harshly, mental visions of her grandfather flashing through her head. Trying to prevent the grievous look that always marred her features at the thought of him, she cleared her throat and rubbed her forehead. "After grandpa got sick I needed to find something, anything that could provide enough to support the both of us. I hardly find this fixation permanent. I blame your cursoriness for your sharp words, not you, but that doesn't give you the right to say them." She dropped the smashed can into a bag. "Especially to me."

Haruka sighed. It was the same old Rei in a new shield. Before she'd been the cool and confident girl, the mysterious bombshell who threw any man's heart on the ground and stomped on it. Her emotions were in check, except when she bantered with Usagi. The blonde smirked at this, but it soon faded to a worried frown. Now she posed as a pessimistic person whose frequent elegiac expressions and sensual efficacy revealed something much more complicated.

"Well that's partially why I'm here." Rei's sharp eyes looked up. "We need someone to sing in our upcoming concert. The people who tried out were good but I'm looking for something a little edgier, and I've heard you sing before."

Rei ran a hand through her raven hair and walked back over to the bar, setting the bag on a chair and turning to face Haruka, who'd followed. "And why should I come sing for you? We've never been pals before, even prior to the Great Freeze."

Haruka shrugged, grabbing a beer bottle and grimacing at the ash and alcohol mixture inside. She set it down. "It'd be hell of a lot better than here," she mumbled, taking her hand and wiping it on her pant leg. "That wouldn't be the only requital either," she said nonchalantly, swinging a small bag back over her shoulder and heading towards the door. "We'd spend some time together, you, me, and Michiru, plus you would get to meet Quatre." The way she said his name, however, did not incite any excitement to meet him.

"Quatre?"

Haruka's mouth twisted downwards. "I suppose I shouldn't rag on him too much, he really is a sweet guy."

"But?"

"But… you know, despite knowing she's gay and all, I think he's got a thing for Michiru. That or he just likes her a lot more than he likes me." Haruka bit her lip and gave Rei an up and down look, earning a raised eyebrow in response. "Hopefully when you show up he'll have something else to obsess over." Haruka smiled. "Trading the sweet music queen for the smoky singing temptress."

Rei threw a piece of trash at Haruka, said girl batting it away with the back of her hand. "Anyways, you'll meet him when you come."

"_If_ I come, " Rei responded, setting her stance and giving Haruka the firmest look she could muster.

"Oh, you'll come."

Rei just wanted to wipe that cocky smirk off of Haruka's face with her own fist but instead restrained herself to clenching it at her side. "And why is that?"

"I just have a feeling. See you on Saturday," she smiled and walked out of the door and into the dark street.

Before Rei's mind could even begin to wrap itself around the situation that faced her there was another person who walked into the door. Snapping out of her current whirring mental state, she placed a hand up. "I'm sorry," she said, "we're cl—"

"Is Jiro-san here?" a deep, calming voice asked.

His long arms were stuffed haphazardly into a dark blue sweatshirt and his legs were covered only in a pair of loose, black shorts. What caught Rei's attention was not his overbearing height, or the way he sort of slouched almost to her level, but the huge swollen eye that protruded from his otherwise handsome face.

When she didn't respond Trowa took a hand from his pocket and scratched his head. "Look lady, I don't have a lot of time and I need to speak with him about someth—"

"Weed," she said quickly. She blinked rapidly before looking back up to his face. Usually when she confronted someone about buying weed from her co-worker they'd sputter or get angry with her. This man, however, simply blinked his one able eye and shrugged.

"If you want to be blunt."

Trowa was not one to usually make jokes but when Rei threw her head back and let loose a relieving, hearty laugh he was glad he'd done it. It vivified her, turning a sultry, melancholy looking bar singer into a brightened, amused and beautiful woman.

"He's through that door to the left," she said, a smile still painting her lips as she pointed behind her. Trowa nodded and followed her finger, disappearing behind the door and slinking away from Rei's interested eyes.

* * *

Makoto kneeled next to the body, pulling her jacket closer to her skin as she inspected her newest case's naked body. He lay motionless in the middle of an alleyway, arms crossed delicately over his chest, as if he'd already been sent to the morgue in a body bag. His body was pale and cool, a slight sheen lying upon it due to the night dew.

She traced a finger in the air along a large tattoo of a cross that stained his arm before outlining the smoker's patch that rested in the middle. He seemed normal, mid thirties perhaps and a fine build, a small bruise on his hip that could have been from anything. His fingernails looked clean of skin and particles but that didn't mean there weren't any. Taking a small tool from the bag at her side she scooped out a sample and placed it in an evidence bag.

If one were to merely glance at his body they would see nothing wrong, perhaps he'd had a stroke or some other fatal internal catastrophe, but if your eyes wandered from his body to his face it would have been a whole different story. His lips were calm, slightly gaping, and the rest of his face lay untouched…except for his eyes. Streaming down the sides of his face to pool and crust in the curvature of his ears were ribbons of blood.

Makoto pursed her lips and stood, beginning to walk around the scene. Her eyes were peeled for any marker as to what could have happened, camera prepared and shooting away. Others buzzed around her, blue "CS" marked jackets whizzing by as they prepared to take the body back to Crystal Services for inspection. She heard the body bag zip and was prepared to hop in the truck to leave when someone called out her name.

"Agent Kino!" She turned around to face a junior officer who was holding something in his gloved hand.

"What is it?" she asked, reaching out to take the roll from him.

"I'm not sure ma'am, some kind of scroll I think? It was in his pocket."

Makoto looked to the small, yellowing parchment that now lay in her hands. Seeing if it was anything important she began to unfold it, trying to hurry carefully when she felt a few raindrops hit her shoulders and nose.

It was a difficult fold but she had the parchment open in seconds and flipped it upside down to see if she could understand the writing placed upon it. It wasn't Japanese, nor was it English. It didn't look European in any way. In fact, if she had to best describe it, it looked most like some sort of elvish from Lord of the Rings. Her eyebrows creased when she realized that they were not, in fact, the latter.

And then a specific symbol caught her eye. It was curvaceous in nature and wound around like a cursive 9. She looked over the characters more, trying to shield the paper with her body as she moved towards the truck once she heard the body bag zip. After she climbed in and sat down in the passenger seat Makoto felt as if she'd been hit with a Luna Mind Meld. Her mind raced to recall these sorts of symbols and letters. They were curvy, crossing, and straight, ones she'd once seen carved into dilapidated pillars and a floor that held no roof. She'd seen them in a place that held no oxygen, where a thriving civilization had once roamed. She'd seen them when she was so young, when she'd taken that life-changing excursion to the Moon.

The letter was written in Lunarian.

* * *

Ami sat quietly in her chair. Her eyes swiveled left and right as she watched people dart inside from the rain pelting down onto their makeshift newspaper umbrellas. The water on the ground melded together in a watercolor pallet of lights, reflecting objects in odd shapes and distorting versions of their actual selves. Ami tilted her head to the side and placed her pencil tip precariously on the edge of the paper. Gently she began to make light strokes, outlining this shape or that.

Her firm concentration was terminated when someone came barreling into her lab, huffing and puffing and mumbling her name ungraciously. Giving a sigh Ami turned and was not quite surprised to see an almost drenched Makoto leaning heavily against the jamb of her door, cradling something cautiously in her hands.

"Ami," she huffed, swallowing and trying to catch her breath. "I… just ran all the way down here…" Makoto placed whatever she'd been holding in her hands on to the cold, silver surface of one of Ami's lab tables. She backed away, throwing her coat and shirt to the ground and placed her hands on her knees.

"I can see that…" Ami mumbled, walking to the back of her lab to grab a towel, then proceeding to throw it at her friend's head. Makoto caught it before it hit her and gave an incomprehensible thanks. She used the towel to try and dry the wet patches of her tank top before leaning over and drying her hair. Forgetting about the towel she dropped it on the ground and walked back over to the letter.

"I found this at the crime scene," Makoto said, handing Ami the letter. "Male, Caucasian, mid thirties. He was found naked in the middle of an ally, only thing that seemed wrong, and was obviously wrong, was the fact that his eyes were bleeding." Ami took the letter with a frown, not looking at it yet but staring at Makoto with a perturbed expression.

"His eyes were bleeding?" she asked.

Makoto nodded fervently. "Yes, yes, but that's not the big thing here Ami—"

"Makoto, that's a very big thing! How many deaths have you seen with bleeding eyes?" Ami shuffled around her lab, starting this program and that, getting out tools and whatnot. "I'll have to see if Dr. Wisner will allow me to stand by during the autopsy," she said absentmindedly, pushing her glasses up her nose and fiddling around.

Makoto sighed, placing a frustrated hand to her forehead. Whenever they were hit with a case that Ami found interesting it was nearly impossible to get her to focus on anything else. As she scrambled around the lab Makoto picked up the letter and calmly strolled up to her friend, who was shuffling around a cabinet. Taking her shoulders she spun the girl around and shoved the letter into her face.

"If you find bleeding eyes fascinating Ami, you'll surely see this as a trip." Ami took the letter and held it a little farther from her face, where she could distinctly read the symbols. "I found it at the scene." A flush came to her face and her heart pattered in excitement. "Ami, you won't believe this, it's in—"

"Lunarian…"

Makoto, her mood at first dampened by the fact that Ami had figured it out so quickly, shrugged her shoulders and pulled away, running a hand through her wet hair with excitement. "Yeah…what do you think it means?"

Ami had yet to pull her eyes from the paper, blue orbs glued to the curvilinear symbols that cultivated on the page. She was silent and if Makoto didn't know better she could have sworn Ami was actually _reading_ it. Her body remained still and her fingers held the paper as if it would burn her. Her eyes, however, shifted quickly and methodically over the parchment, analyzing each section, each part of data. When she spoke, it almost scared Makoto, who had become accustomed to the silence.

"Have you told—?"

Makoto snorted. "If I had do you think you'd be seeing it right now?"

Ami gave a knowing look and said, "point noted," before setting Makoto's find down on the table. She took a seat on a chilly stool and cradled her head in her hands, her brain working at magnitudes it hadn't in awhile as it processed just what exactly this letter could possibly entail.

Makoto noticed her downtrodden expression and her eyebrows curled in confusion. She figured that Ami, like any other interesting case thrust their way, would be jumping for joy and licking her lips in excitement. Instead she looked worried, almost nervous as her fingers massaged her lightly shaking head and her eyes scrunched tight into a multitude of creases.

The brunette placed a hand to the scientist's shoulder and her friend sighed. "Ami-chan…" she began, not knowing exactly what to ask her, except perhaps the acutely non-imploring and bland question of, "what's wrong?"

Ami took her head from its soundly shaking cradle of her hands and shook it slightly. "Makoto…" she began, taking the letter in her hands once again and looking over the symbols. "This is not good. Not good at all…"

Makoto waved it off. "What?" she asked, drawing out the sound and giving her friend a hearty clap on the back. "Pish-posh my friend, this is a case that's going to go down in the books." She gave a grin and a fist pump. "I can feel it!"

Despite Makoto's jolly efforts, Ami's depleted look did not diminish. She stared at the symbols in worry, flashes of past years, of what she could remember, flowing through her mind's eye like a torrent. Maybe she was worrying for nothing… but maybe her trepidation was legitimized in the fact that this letter, written in Lunarian, could possibly ruin the solidarity and profound restfulness of Crystal Tokyo. Perhaps even Crystal Earth.

Makoto's look softened and she took a seat, propping her head on her fist. "Ami-chan…please, what is it?" she asked cautiously, softly, almost to cater to the blue haired girl's sudden mercurialness.

Ami turned on her seat to face her long time friend and was glad, despite its slightly contorted meaning, that she had someone to share this unfortunate burden and information with. She picked up the letter from her previously uncontaminated counters and held it by the corners for her friend to see.

"Mako-chan, this letter is written in Lunarian."

Said girl raised an eyebrow and leaned back. "Is that all you're worried about?" she asked, thinking Ami's suddenly foul mood had to do with her strive for perfection. "That we won't be able to translate it?"

Ami shook her head. "No. In fact, I've already translated some of it from what I remember in the past."

Makoto crossed her arms and lightly humphed, jealous of the fact that Ami could still remember something they all used to know fluently. Given it had been thousands of years ago.

"No," she said again, staring at the paper in the cautious way she had before, causing Makoto to lean in worriedly. "It's not that. It's the fact that it's written in Lunarian."

Makoto looked at the paper in earnest determination, hoping that staring very hard at it might evince just what the hell Ami was repeating. Okay, so it was written in Lunarian. So what? She stared harder, wondering if it was the content of the letter that had her nerdy friend all jittery. That process failed, however, when the only words she could remember related to any of the symbols painted gracefully were 'here', 'sighs', and 'tree'.

_Why the hell do I remember the word 'sighs'?_ Makoto asked herself, shaking her head and leaning back. "Ami, I just don't foll—"

"The letter. Is written. In Lunarian," she said fiercely, boring her eyes into Makoto as she glanced again at the paper. The tenseness growing in her shoulders began to release when Ami saw Makoto's eyes widen in a daunting realization. The green orbs grew gradually and stared incredulously at the now harsh symbol of reality that was held in Ami's hands.

She brushed her fingers over her lips, a nervous habit she'd acquired over the years. "Shit…" she mumbled behind the appendages, knee now bouncing anxiously. What she was restless for, Makoto didn't know quite yet. "The letter is written in Lunarian."

Ami nodded. Now that Makoto realized what she had, she deemed the air fit to articulate their new circumstance. She gave an almost amazed bark of laughter, forced harshly from her throat. "People know that Neo-Queen Serenity has the Ginzuisho, they know now that there are otherworldly forces at work. Mako-chan," she said almost frantically, shaking the letter and bringing her voice down a few notches, "you may have forgotten it but only a select few know that she is actually from the moon." Makoto bit her lip, curse words shooting throughout her head. "Us, Makoto, her Senshi."

"Shit," Makoto cursed again, only silently this time, keeping a hand over her mouth. "Ami this means our cover is blown. I was _meant_ to find that letter, somebody knows who we are…"

Ami shook her head. "Not only that, Mako-chan, but we are _not_, in fact, the only beings who know that she's from the Moon, who know how to potentially read Lunarian."

Makoto's heart shot into her throat before dropping like a rollercoaster into her stomach. She reciprocated Ami's previous position and cradled her head in her arms. "And to think… after years and years of otherworldly peace…"

"Yeah, to think…a youma. And a smart one at that."


	4. Quiet Nights Breed Quiet Stars

**aqafina rain:** Don't they? I always thought that their relationship was so fantastically dichotomous. Out of all of the Senshi I felt that their relationship would remain less tempestuous so I put them together. Yeah, Quatre's adorable and so sweet—but he definitely knows that the two are together so he won't be interfering. For some reason I love making Trowa like a joker-but-he-doesn't-know-it kind of guy. I don't know why but the sarcasm fits him so well. I'm so happy you keep reading, thank you so much for the review!

**JPandS: **I know, I love them together! And now Makoto gets a little boost when it comes to her job, woo! I took two of the old chapters and made them into one, taking out a few really OOC scenes and adding some more sensible ones haha. So answers will come faster now, hooray! Rei is a little out of it in this chapter but I think it's fitting for anyone to have the reaction she does (you'll read what happens). Haruka gets her charm on in this chapter too, hehe. I'm curious to know what you think of Rei and Quatre's meeting in this chapter. I wanted to make it brief but enticing…we'll see how I did haha. Thank you so much for your review! :)

* * *

**Toxic**

**Chapter Three: Quiet Nights Breed Quiet Stars**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Sailor Moon or Gundam Wing.

Rei was furious.

"Haruka!" she demanded, pushing around this wayward intern and that harried producer. They cluttered the backstage area like New York's famed fashion week. Who knew an orchestral and choral performance could garner such infamy and require coordinators as persistent as her grandfather's perverseness? One grabbed her arm and Rei almost growled like a feral animal. She did _not_ want to be touched.

"Ms. Hino we need you back in hair and make-up, please!" the agent said to her in a sing song voice that hit just enough vibrato at the end to make Rei want to punch her in the face.

Rei's patience was breaking. This was the antithesis of her desired environment. She closed her eyes as her nostrils flared, taking a five-count to calm her raging ire.

"Yes, I know, and just as I told the woman who was caking that _shit_ onto my face like I was some build-me-up Barbie, I _need_ to find Haruka," she seethed.

The agent eyed the flushed girl over the top of her glasses. Her gaze studied the canvas that Rei's once virginal visage had become. She made eye contact with Rei's fiery orbs, unfazed. "I'm not so sure what the problem is dear, it's stage make-up." She clapped her hands so suddenly, so loudly, and so directly in Rei's face that her blazing condescendence was immediately doused in surprise. "Now chip-chop, Haruka's with Michiru as _sheeee's_ getting her hair done," then with a pointed look and a ferocious howl she barked, "_We've got 30 minutes people!"_

Rei watched her depart in amazement. She did _not_ want to know what that woman had in her coffee each morning.

Haruka, however, was just where she said she'd be, standing behind Michiru with a finger to her chin. The hairstylist was holding Michiru's turquoise locks in some fancy yet complicatedly messy up-do.

"I like it Michi," she said, taking a step back and closing one eye. She held her hands out in front of her, capturing her lover's image in a box made of her fingers. "You look tempting but classy. You're sure it won't interfere with your chin rest?—Oh hey Rei-chan!" The blonde took her eyes away from Michiru as the violinist applied an even layer of blood red lipstick.

"Haruka, I need to talk to you," she strained silently through her teeth

The taller girl could hear the slight flutter in Rei's tone and immediately pulled the girl aside. "What is it, what's wrong? And what on Crystal Earth have they put on your face?" She snatched a towel off of the shoulder of some passing intern and proceeded to remove the gook.

Rei squeezed her eyes shut and tried to spit out a few words in between the ministrations Haruka performed on her face. "I just—" _Wipe_. "This morning when we practiced—" _Squeegee._ "Haruka I didn't realize—" _Dab_. She grabbed the towel from Haruka's hands. "Will you listen to me?" she pleaded but the blonde was not listening. She was scrutinizing Rei's face, looking for any last spot of chalky make-up.

"Ah," she mumbled, reaching her thumb out to give Rei's skin one last wipe. The tender brush of flesh on flesh melded into Haruka cupping Rei's supple, now blushed cheek—the pink from her rough dismantling of the make-up and at their new proximity. "I didn't tell you this morning that you'd be performing in front of 6,000 people because, despite your obvious talent, you would have backed out," she said, proving that she had heard the younger girl's quips.

Stepping away, Haruka shrugged her shoulders. "Plus we did our run-through's here Rei," she laughed. "Did you not think we were testing acoustics?"

Rei put a hand to her forehead, the blush consuming the entirety of her face.

"Don't worry though!" Haruka continued, walking over to Michiru and squeezing her shoulders. "You're outright amazing and you look h-o-t in that dress!" Her laugh echoed as she disappeared.

Scratch that—full body blush. "I hate you, Haruka," she grumbled silently into her palms.

"She is right, however, you do look quite beautiful."

Rei peeked through her fingers only to notice that Quatre, the blonde, third wheel to Haruka and Michiru's circus act had wandered up beside her. He smiled in a way that made her feel comfortable and his laidback stance eased her tense body by sheer immediacy. She watched wide eyed as he placed a hand to her bare shoulder, its warm grasp sending ripples of relaxation and tranquility through her. "You were amazing in rehearsal, I'm sure you'll replicate that tonight."

Rei was unsure how to react. "I don't need...your pity..." For some reason words did not come to her. She would have been unnerved by the sudden calm that befell her had it all not felt so natural.

He ignored her soft condemnation. "I've seen you perform before, at your club."

Rei briefly wondered what a seemingly innocent man like him had been doing at her establishment.

"Your confidence is your key. Be untouchable." With those parting words he lifted his hand from her shoulder and gave her a small, two-fingered salute. "Good luck out there."

The 'yeah, you too,' that she'd been meaning to respond with got stuck in her throat. Rei eyed her shoulder, the spot still tenderly warm from his hand. Her nerves had returned but they were good nerves. And it was as if some force had remedied her fear—some force named Quatre Winner.

Somehow he'd made her forget the fact that he called her beautiful, gave her advice, and _touched_ her—all sins in the eyes of Rei Hino. Discomfiture settled upon her shoulders as she tried to futilely wipe the persistent warmth from her shoulder, eyeing where the blonde had departed suspiciously.

* * *

Heero stared at the auditorium; the grand, ostentatious and gaudy thing it was. Spinning gold coated sky blue ceilings and plush, red, velvet seating swam across its open spaces, catering to the bums some 6,000. He'd heard the performers before and lucky for him they were pretty good. Maybe it would take his mind off of the glitzy hall they played in.

He stood by the back door, arms folded securely in front of him as he leaned against the wall. His eyes scanned the room quickly and efficiently, the buzz in his ear reciprocating exactly what he saw. It was all clear. A prestigious Minister from Madrid was visiting Crystal Tokyo and on this beautiful night was taking his wife from a long day of international relations negotiations to a quiet and melodious concert. At least that was the cover story. Black Ops wouldn't be assigned such a remedial task. That was for the replaceable Crystal Services.

In actuality the Minister was purchasing a gift for his wife from a foreign Ambassador of Morocco. A rumor had floated amongst the office that is was a ruby that once belonged to a wealthy Pasha of the Ottoman Empire. Whatever their exchange may be it was to take place during the concert in their box seats, under the guise of darkness and shrouded in Dvorak.

The Minister and the Ambassador took their seats in their box, a hush not quite settling over the crowd but an excited anticipation was evident. Heero tried to remain focused on the Minister and his transaction but something was wrong with his earpiece.

The brunette placed the tips of his fingers to the device, trying to adjust it back to the stoic and mechanic checkups they'd all been performing. However something kept interfering. Static built up on his end, fuzzing out whatever checkup calls he may have tried to exact.

He was about to pull the earpiece out to reconfigure the antenna when he heard a girls voice. Heero's body went rigid and his eyes scanned the breadth of the concert hall's floor. Was his device tuning into someone else's? Did someone else know about the Minister's real reason for attending? He made a move to physically contact another agent posted at the next exit when something caught his eye.

His ear was picking up words and those words were matching a girl's mouth.

"Zzzz…I haven't used this…zzz…in awhile. I'm surprised it still…zzzzz."

She was near to him, in a deep red dress that rose high in a square neckline. When she turned around he realized why it was so conservative in the front; the open back left little to be desired. He watched her eye contact and followed her gaze to a girl sitting in a seat close to the front of the stage. Her friend wore a long sleeved black dress that hugged her figure and tapered gently above her knees. Her shock of blue hair was easy enough to remember and her brunette friend's dress was easy enough to spot from behind. He listened closely to the rest of their conversation.

"ZZzzz…Tell the others?" the blue haired one had asked. She was more careful about being discreet when talking into her wrist, the clear origination of their conversation—evidenced by the brunette who showed no restraint in talking to the watch that resided there.

"Not yet..zzzz…don't want to…zzzZZZz…the Queen. Tomorrow."

Heero's eyes narrowed swiftly, zeroing in on the brunette. If the Queen's name had been mentioned he could be on the receiving end of matters of national security.

"ZzzZZ…Test over? Come sit with me, I'm bored." Their words were coming through clearer and clearer.

"Just a little longer." Heero watched as she toyed idly with a cigarette. She'd pulled it from her purse moments ago and had looked at it longingly. She held it between her fingers. Heero had read somewhere that smokers did that to placate their desire. Or was the cigarette something more?

There was a huff on the other end of the line. "Stop trying to look pretty. Don't think I didn't see you eye that cute usher when we came in."

The brunette immediately glanced towards Heero. Blue and green met and she turned away in a pink blush. They thought he was an usher? How pitiful yet pleasing. At least they were fitting in.

"Yeah, yeah, you caught me." She twirled the cigarette in her fingers, looking at it like a guilty pleasure. She made a move to put it in the bag but hesitated. She watched the stick as she twirled it between her thumb and pointer finger. Back and forth it spun and he imagined her mind was doing the same; to smoke it or not to smoke it, that was the question. Wrapping her hand around the cigarette it looked as if she'd come to a decision. "I'm just going to run to the bathroom, I'll be there in a second."

Perfect. He'd grab Yifone who was posted at the front and bring her in for questioning.

She made a move for the door, her slow steps taking her directly next to Heero. But just as she was about to make her guilty escape the lights flashed and a series of bell chimes signaled that it was time for everyone to take their seats.

Heero's mouth twitched. The brunette clenched her fist and looked to the ceiling.

_Dammit_…they both cursed.

She looked back down to the little, worn, poisonous stick in her hand and then glanced over to Heero. "If that's not a sign, I don't know what is." When he didn't respond she held the cigarette in his direction. "Do you smoke?" she asked.

"Yes." Of course he didn't smoke. But he was sure her DNA was all over that cigarette. She passed it over to him and he placed it in his breast pocket.

"Good," she responded. "That's Pika, my phantom cigarette. I hope he treats you as well as he treated me." She genuinely looked sad to part from the stick, sighing before walking down the aisle towards her waving friend.

Heero noticed that the voices of the men on his team were now reading loud and clear through his earpiece. He turned his attention back to the Minister, his first priority, but kept a wary eye on the strange, plotting women.

The lights dimmed to a healthy glow and there was a flood of applause as the performers graced the stage and took their positions.

As time passed Heero labeled it as a good concert, not one of their best but it was nearly impossible to lay a black mark on the trio that assumed the stage. One of them was even a person he'd known for a very long time…He'd always wondered why he the other Gundam Pilots retained a fair majority of their past memories. Everyone else seemed to completely forget about the After Colony age and mobile suits in general. But Heero remembered it all, and he was sure the other four did as well—except for Trowa. He hadn't seen the man in years but never wondered of his whereabouts.

His critique of the performance stayed firm until a girl walked out onto the stage. As she approached the microphone that was waiting for her, it was now clear that she was, in fact, no girl. Her slim figure was accentuated by the most appropriate curves and a delicate, white dress draped her body. The fabric seemed almost diaphanous but opaque, haloing her body in a graceful curtain of luscious fabric and yet it was oddly acceptable. Her hair contrasted spectacularly against the dress, a deep raven balancing innocence and reality as it brushed against her soft shoulders and vanilla garment.

If the audience found her appearance wondrous they were pinned to their seats by the sheer etherealness of her voice. Heero expected classical, melodious, almost opera like seeing as how that had been the persistant theme of the concert What exuded from her vocal chords, however, was far from tight and prim. It gave him a dangerous feeling as it moved over the audience in a beautiful sensuous wave of music and they began to sway with it as if hypnotized.

The lines of the com in his ear were silent, not a breath being taken, not a murmur of appreciation or a comment on her beauty, just pure silence. It unnerved him, how a singular feeling could captivate an audience of thousands. His eyes scanned the crowd methodically again, searching for any flaws, any movement other than the ocean like sway of the dedicated listeners. When his eyes picked up nothing they wandered of their own accord back to the beacon standing on stage.

The three players in the background ceased as the song came to its conclusion, her voice the only note reverberating throughout the hall. A single last line that morphed into a warm, thick feeling for the audience that left shivers rolling down their spines. The last echo rebounded off of the high ceilings and settled lightly like confectioners sugar on a delicate pastry over the audience.

After a pregnant pause the audience erupted into cheers and whistles, members standing until the entire auditorium stood in appreciation. The singer smiled and backed away, almost surprised that the audience valued her voice so much. Her eyes swooped over the crowd just before bowing as the audience whooped.

Heero almost clucked his tongue. What a reprehensible display.

* * *

The whole room smelled dank; there were pitted seeds in one corner, drying into conventional game pieces, while water marred the stone walls caving to compose his prison. He'd gotten used to the shivering by now, it was an unfortunate norm that caused his muscles to contract continuously and his jaw ache from the strain of keeping his teeth from chattering. Despite its frequent chill, he liked Crystal Tokyo in the dark more than he did during the daylight.

When the structures glittered and shimmered with the day's light it showed only the ostentatious glow of a city with superfluous gaudiness and a population that followed mindlessly the words of an incompetent queen. At night, the moon instead revealed the streets littered with garbage. It showed shadows cast hauntingly across mannequin chests, morphing a preferred perfect body with a blank, unseeing face into a dangerously slim body jilted into a contorted position. It took off the mascara of a scarred city and left it bare in the distinct fashion of a schoolgirl who doesn't look good without make-up.

When he heard the sound of light feet on the steps leading to his captivation cell he had to admit he was surprised. It was extremely rare to have nighttime visitors and, in his entire experience locked up, he'd only ever had one before. It was bound to be that exact same person.

His visitor reached his cell and he heard their body slump against the wooden door. Yes, he thought, stilling his chattering teeth, it was her. He heard her sigh heavily, banging the back of her head slightly on the door. He could mentally imagine her mouthing curses, slighting herself for daring to come see him. He could only imagine her soft skin, draped only in a silk nightdress across naked breasts and bare legs…

"To what do I owe your company?" he asked, catching himself before he let his mind wander down lewd avenues, a little lane he'd discovered after he rarely saw human bodies.

She banged her head on the door again and he heard her shuffle uncomfortably. It was amazing how much you could hear where people rarely treaded. There was a slight echo, and he'd become used to listening to nothing. This made any little noise like a blaring horn and any movement like an earthquake. Duo could almost swear he could hear her thudding heart in her chest, the blood surging methodically throughout veins and ventricles.

"Why am I here?" she asked herself, trying to forget that he was simply on the other side of the door. She was drawn to him like a butterfly to a lamplight. It was like she was genetically attracted to him, not necessarily emotionally but she liked to be near him. Usually she refrained from seeing him, and only once before had she ever been so tempted as now to visit his cell.

Duo snorted, rolling over on his, if you could call it one, bed, "Because whether you like it or not you're attracted to me."

He could hear her tiny gasp and smirked, knowing that there was nothing she could really do to him. "I am—"

"An attraction is something nobody can get over. It doesn't mean you're in love with me or that you want to spend the rest of your life with me. It's simply the fact that there's something about me you find interesting, charismatic perhaps." He was silent for a moment, letting her simmer over his explanation. "Maybe even handsome." He wished he could see her face, and though he couldn't actually see her, his prediction that her cheeks had reddened and her lips puckered uncomfortably was spot on.

"Or maybe," he began, all childishness set aside and a sudden fury surfacing in his chest, "It's the fact that I'm one of the only people who will tell you the truth about yourself."

She placed her head in her hands, running her fingers through her hair and wondering just how his words struck such a chord with her. He was right, though. He was so straightforward and so on point it was hard not to seek his harsh yet comforting words. Duo let her know her faults, what she needed to fix and she used the humiliation to fuel her job.

Her silence let him know she wanted him to continue. Propping his head up on his hand he turned and faced the door, knowing that that was his only way of remotely communicating with her—through a wooden barrier.

"You know, the girls who bring my food are quite chatty. And apparently you and your friend are quite loud when you argue."

Before she could stop them, tears pricked at the corner of her eyes. She wiped them away furiously with her arm and glared at the door, as if that would do much harm. "It wasn't an argument."

"Not completely verbally," he agreed and disagreed.

She huffed from behind the door and he chuckled.

"To be frank, you kind of suck at your job."

She swallowed harshly. "I beg your par—"

"No, no," he sighed, cutting her off with a wave of his hand. "Not your official job." He rubbed his eyes and let his head fall back onto his makeshift pillow. "Your friendship duty." She was silent and he read volumes from that. "You know, silence is louder than words." Again she said nothing. He turned over in his bed, ready to go back to sleep. He heard her stand and let her go, knowing that she would return. But he didn't let her leave without a few parting words.

"Quiet nights breed quiet stars. Don't fuck up a whole country just because you can't get your act together."

Her tiny feet pattered quickly down the stairs.

* * *

Mamoru sat awake in his bed, wondering silently where his wife had disappeared to in the middle of the night.

* * *

Sometimes when it all falls down, when the superficial glue that holds together a crumbling relationship dissolves, it's best, for the moment, to be by yourself. Minako understood this concept and wholeheartedly accepted it. Her feet wandered for a while of their own accord, stopping at this place or that, admiring some scene or another. They eventually carried her willing body outside into the gardens behind the palace where geraniums mixed with mums and tiger lilies contrasted against the hibiscus. It was where pea vines curled with ambition along the metal, checkered structures sanctioned to be their support, where strawberries hung hidden beneath weighted leaves and raspberries coiled to formulate pink clusters of luscious fruit bundled heavy on purple, thorn-ridden stems. It was where cherry trees and pear trees were neighbors, the orange and apple trees just across the street. It was where willows and maples intertwined in a dance proposed by the wind, where polk trees could let their poisonous purple berries linger, and dogwoods and forsythias were separated only by the ever ephemeral burning bushes.

Minako's favorite spot, however, was a wide redwood bench flanked by roses and irises, the back portion cuddling with lantanas and black eyed susans. It was a true haven, a little hideout where stressful thoughts were replaced with entwining perfumes of the myriad of foliage that perpetuated its existence. She sat down, the ridges in the bench welcoming her home and the wind blew a lantana stem to pat her shoulder in condolence. Minako inhaled deeply and leaned back, closing her eyes and letting the black eyed susans brush her cheeks in a comforting gesture.

Her head was a mess, it was cluttered with contrasting ideas, with thoughts of doubt and anger, with emotions of sadness and nervousness, as well as the physical inputs of a continuously racing heart and slight illness. How had they fallen so far? How had the once unstoppable Sailor Senshi separated into different branches of selfishness? She gave a sigh and looked out over the landscape of the gardens and was surprised to see a figure wending its way along the stone ridden pathway. Minako had to admit she wasn't quite surprised to see that it was Wufei. He had that strange, uncanny ability to always know where she was.

"And to what do I owe your lovely company?" she teased dryly as he sat next to her on the bench. At first he didn't answer, didn't even make a sound as she turned her inquiring eyes to his still body. When she took in his appearance her eyebrows shot into her hairline. "Your hair," she almost exclaimed, hand twitching with the urge to do something she didn't know. "It's shorter."

Wufei didn't even shrug, his posture perfect and his hands folded neatly in his lap. "It was bothersome," was his only response and Minako nodded, only slightly put off when she didn't feel the usual twist of annoyance in her gut at the sound of his voice. Perhaps it was because for once it was not him backhanding her orders or perpetuating the rift of egos between them. Perhaps it was because he was being civil-and so was she.

She looked down to her own long locks and gave an understanding nod. Picking up a bundle she rubbed it between her long fingers. "I know what you mean."

The lantanas patted her shoulder again in an unknown gesture and Minako turned towards it, inhaling the sweet scent that accompanied the fiery colored flowers. "I love this place," was the only thing she could think of to stir up the silence between them.

"I don't," was his quick response.

At first she frowned towards him, thinking he was merely trying to set her on edge but when she took in the way he was sitting-rigid, perfect, alert-Minako could tell that he truly felt uncomfortable. She felt that this was the one place she could unwind, take her shoes off and feel something tangible beneath her feet. She wondered how the enchanting allurement of the gardens could possibly translate into anything besides peace, calm, and serenity. "Why?" she dared to ask.

His answer was quick and precise again. "Because approximately seventeen steps north of here there is a cluster of red roses entwined with white roses."

Minako didn't quite understand. "So?"

This time he turned to her and, though it was nearly dark outside, Minako could see his charcoal colored eyes almost perfectly. "Putting red and white flowers together is bad luck." At her confused look he turned away and looked out towards the palace. It was alighted like fire, lights refracting through the crystal and sending patterned shapes across the ground. "But not only that," he said formally, uncrossing his fingers and placing his hands on his thighs, using the leverage to push himself up from the seated position. "It's the fact that everything is for show. There aren't the simple things like daisies or lavender. There are no essentials like herbs; sage, thyme, or rosemary. There are no vegetables," he said, holding out his hand, "only fruit."

When Minako stared at him in wonderment, letting his oddly assertive and even more so pithy words sink in, Wufei took her silence and explained why he was there in the first place. "There's been a serious disturbance and the Queen requires our audience."

Minako, still focused on the perceptiveness of his critique, blinked suddenly in confusion. "What?" she asked, taking his hand and rising to her feet. The once proclaimed haven now seemed flashy and fake. Oh how she wished he hadn't pointed out the now obvious pretentiousness of the swanky gardens. Who put mums next to geraniums or irises by lantanas? It all seemed noisy now, clustered like the easel of a three year old with painted colors thrown in any which direction.

"A meeting is being held," he said, beginning a slow stroll back towards reality. "We are required to attend."

Minako hesitantly followed, her brain switching from relaxation mode into guard mode; events and responsibility crashing back in a torrent of ache. "A meeting?" she asked, walking a little quicker to catch up to him. "At this hour?" he nodded. "With whom?-besides the Queen, I mean."

His back was turned to her when he answered and she was glad that he was not able to see the shock and partial grief that momentarily marred her appearance and gripped at her body with his following words. "With the director of Black Ops, a few choice others, and your fellow Senshi."

A fury so red hot and so foreign ran through her body and colored her cheeks she nearly stopped walking. Wufei noticed her slowed steps and turned to face her. He had to admit that he was legitimately surprised when her face looked angry. "I have no fellow Senshi," she said lowly, and Wufei could hear the shakiness to her voice. Whether it was anger or partial sorrow, however, he could not tell. "Thus I would appreciate it if you would not call them so."

Wufei watched her for a moment, studying how her body reacted to the mention of her former friends. What could turn her against such a well oiled, well working group? Her face was flushed and her body was tense, her fists clenching and unclenching. He'd been on the receiving end of this look many times but for some reason the fire that ran through her now seemed more fueled by hurt than anger and frustration.

"Understood," he nodded, turning and continuing back along the path towards the palace. When he heard the slow but steady footsteps following behind him he almost sighed. While he wished that this meeting would be all business there was no doubt in his mind that there would be dramatics.

* * *

Wufei reached out to open the doors to the conference room. His hand, however, paused on the brass knob and he turned to his coworker. She looked at him anxiously, put on edge that he hadn't opened the door and nervous of how she would react when he did. Their eyes met and Wufei's look hardened as he took his hand slowly from the door. "Listen," he said softly, keeping a low voice so that those already gathered inside could not hear them, "you have to be civil-"

"Oh don't lecture me, Wufei, I'm not going to pout like a kid or start a fight or anything," she chastised, placing her hands deftly on her hips. "It's not like—"

"I only say this," Wufei cut her off, placing his hand up to silence her, "because the fact of the matter is that your emotions are not in check." She opened her mouth to refute that but Wufei kept his hand up. "Look at you," he said, waving his hand to show off her stance, "you're tense, obviously nervous and angered, and your head is still a mess from yesterday morning."

Minako looked away in partial shame. She didn't want to think of the spat she got into with _Usagi. _It made her heart leap and the once confident demeanor that she was going to use as her crutch faded into oblivion. In fact, she felt as if she wanted to cry again. Her eyes wetted and she looked away, profusely blinking as Wufei grabbed her arm tightly.

"Pull yourself together, Minako," he said. The way it physically came out of him was harsh but the tone in which he said it was firm and supportive. "You're the one they need." He took his hand from her arm and Minako felt as if the once returning stability he'd given her began to fade with his touch. When he placed his hand on the doorknob to open it her heart pattered uncomfortably in her chest.

Wait, what did he mean that she was the one they needed?

The doors creaked open and all eyes turned in their direction, but Minako's blue irises were trained only on Wufei's now stoic form. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back and his eyes remained forward, only on their queen. She couldn't tear her almost astonished eyes from him.

In her emotional state she had yet to realize that he was actually _comforting_ her. He'd been kind, in his own strange sort of way, and had tried to give her advice. When had the resigned and detached Wufei ever cared about her wellbeing? Was he only doing it so that she wouldn't embarrass him at this meeting? And what on _Crystal Earth_ had he meant by 'you're the one they need'?

It took her a moment to realize that everyone in the room was staring at her, except for Wufei who was bent obediently at the waist, giving his honor to his queen. Blinking out of her hazy daze Minako too bowed and the two took their positions by the side of Neo-Queen Serenity.

Minako could feel her palms getting sweaty within her gloves as she looked out at the people cluttered around the entirety of the room. They sat at a long wooden table, each side flanked by an assemblage of chairs, featuring the symbol of the moon decoratively carved into its middle.

On one side sat Rei. Her outrageously gorgeous looks withstood the years but she seemed different for some reason; Meek in a strange sort of way. On her right were Haruka and Michiru, the former positioned comfortably in her chair, leaning back with the same short cropped hair and smug yet bored smirk on her lips, the latter sitting politely with her hands in her lap and her ankles crossed daintily.

Directly across from them on the other side of the table was a women Minako was only able to identify as the director of Black Ops; Sally Po. She saw out of the corner of her eyes that Wufei gave her a slight nod and she responded with a smirk and a nod of her own. The mysteries of her partner continued as Minako wondered how the two knew each other. Standing behind the director were two people; one Minako recognized as Agent Noin, an escort she took with her frequently, the other was a tall, brown haired male who looked at her with the strangest, most analytical eyes that had been set on her body since Wufei first met her.

To her left were Makoto and Ami, both looking nearly the same as they had when Minako had last seen them. Ami's hair was perhaps a little longer and she looked more laid back, her seating position hardly as polite as Michiru's. Makoto had grown her bangs longer and her hair was braided instead of in her high school ponytail. She looked the same as ever in meeting situations, arms crossed and a frown on her face. She'd been eyeing the brunette agent with Sally Po, mumbling something about an "usher."

The meeting began but Minako only paid half attention. The director of Black Ops mentioned that someone had broken into her office and left a calling card of sorts, reading 'First Victim.' She'd sent it down to forensics to pull any prints and one was found, belonging to an Ernie Down; American born, 6'2", just turned 30, and recently murdered.

After that Ami and Makoto picked up, relating to their queen their information from Crystal Services. They'd found the body in an alleyway, resting naked with bleeding eyes. Upon further investigation they found that he was a coyote, someone who exploited those who went to Crystal Tokyo illegally. Ami had pulled the smokers patch from his arm and found that he'd been poisoned. She'd found traces of fludrocortisones in it. His blood pressure had skyrocketed, which in turn led to a heart attack and the increase in vascular pressure was what had caused his eyes to bleed.

Makoto rolled her eyes at Ami's fervent enthusiasm. She then took out of a small evidence bag a letter. "The reason we requested to see you so enthusiastically was not some haphazard connection between Black Ops and Crystal Services. It's this letter, uh, Neo-Queen Serenity," she looked unsure of what she should call her, the last time she spoke to the queen having called her Usagi.

Minako felt a slight pang when _Usagi_ did nothing to stop her, but a sour look crossed her face.

Makoto continued. "It's in…" she gave a wary look to Sally Po and her agents, only briefly wondering why they were really there. "Uh, well, you can see for yourself," she said and Minako watched as Wufei glared at her unprofessionalism.

Neo-Queen Serenity opened the letter and her confused look was replaced with instant shock. "It's in Lunarian!" she exclaimed, small pink lips open in astonishment.

Minako, who'd been staring dutifully out at the table, blinked and whipped her head around to face her queen. Her legs moved of their own accord and she stood directly next to _Usagi_. Her heart pattered with renewed nervousness as she saw that it was in fact written in Lunarian.

"Um…" Makoto looked uncomfortably at the director of Black Ops.

Neo-Queen Serenity raised her hand. "It's alright, she knows."

"And her agents?" Haruka asked sternly, glaring only slightly at the two positioned behind Sally Po. Wufei and Minako both turned a sharp eye to her rudeness. It was impolite to address the queen as so.

Sally Po answered for her. "They understand what they are hearing and know to keep what happens in this room," she gave Haruka a steady stare, "in this room."

The shorthaired blonde didn't seem all that convinced but let it slide for lack of a need for confrontation.

Rei continued in Makoto's stead. "The only beings that know that you're from the moon are us," she waved her hand around the table, "and youma."

Before anyone could respond, Ami cut it. "While I agree that it is most likely a youma, I believe that it's working under the guise of a human."

The queen looked confused and she explained further.

"Ernie Down's fingerprints were also found on the letter. My theory is that it simply slipped from his hand, being placed there by his killer, in this case, a youma. But since when do otherworldly beings who are capable of stealing energy, taking Star Seeds, and looking into dreams, worried about killing someone via poison?"

Ami ran a hand through her hair and sighed. "Plus, the calling card left in Ms. Po's office read 'First Victim', which obviously means that there's going to be more. Since when does a youma leave a calling card in the spirit of a serial killer, and since when does a serial killer know how to write in Lunarian?" She placed her finger in her mouth and chewed on the nail.

Neo-Queen Serenity nodded at Ami's astute breakdown of the case. "Here's how things will start off. None of these changes are permanent, but being faced with such a highly secretive position there's not much more we can do." Minako and Wufei looked at each other questioningly across their queen.

"Rei, Haruka, and Michiru," the three looked up, awaiting their orders. "I want you three moved back into the palace where we can all be alert. Your duties are night watch."

"But what about our jobs?" Haruka questioned, sitting precariously on her chair. She couldn't bear to think of losing her music.

Neo-Queen Serenity looked grim. "If you truly had though that way, Haruka, you would not have come here in the first place."

Haruka gripped her chair arms mercilessly but didn't fully right herself in her chair. Her jaw was set and a frown marred her face but she knew on the inside that what had been said was correct. That didn't make her any happier, though.

The queen continued. "Ami and Makoto, I want you transferred to Black Ops." Makoto looked elated, not keeping her excitement hidden. Ami looked indifferent. "Director Po, I want you to continue with your job as if nothing otherworldly has happened, keep your agents in rank. However, anything pertaining to this case is to be taken care of by Agent Noin, Agent Yuy, Ami, and Makoto. They will comprise this Black Ops team."

"Minako, Wufei," she said softer to the two standing beside her. "You two will remain at your posts and help with further developments of the case when need be," she turned to Rei, Haruka, and Michiru, "as will you three."

Without another word she stood and walked from the room, Minako and Wufei right behind her. Minako made eye contact only with Michiru, who gave her a small smile. Gulping, the blonde tore her eyes away and kept them trained on the back of Wufei's head.

When they'd cleared the door that left everyone to exit the room in various degrees of happiness and anger.

* * *

Quatre walked down the street, food filled bags draping his arms. He sighed in slight boredom, wondering when Haruka and Michiru would come back from their meeting. They hadn't exactly told him where they were going, only that it was of dire importance and that he was to go grocery shopping.

The blonde rolled his eyes slightly and paused when the street sign told him not to cross. He'd been standing for only a moment when he noticed a slightly familiar face strolling down the sidewalk.

He was bundled in a sweatshirt, hood up, which barely concealed a healing black eye. He walked slowly and seemingly without purpose as he watched people pass him quickly or those sitting at outdoor cafés. Quatre was about to call out to him in near confusion when Trowa turned his head, feeling that strange tingle that he was being watched.

The two made eye contact, not quite sure whether to say something or act like nothing had happened. When was the last time they had spoken? When was the last time they had seen each other? People passed them, the crosswalk turned to urge Quatre to the other side but his feet dared not to move.

Trowa looked at him in confusion, wondering how exactly he knew the blonde haired man. He looked so familiar…

A large group of tourists passed in front of them, momentarily cutting off Quatre's vision of his old time friend. When the group had passed, the brunette was nowhere to be found. Quatre looked to his right and to his left, realizing slowly that his only company now was the bags leaving red marks on his arms.

Why had Trowa looked so hesitant, so confused to see him?

"Hmm," the blonde mumbled quickly, crossing the street quickly in an effort to reach the apartment, hoping to relieve his arms of the heavy bags and his mind of formulating questions.


End file.
